


Reach Out

by EmeraldHeiress



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, Identity Reveal, Mentions of canon-typical violence, Panic Attacks, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/pseuds/EmeraldHeiress
Summary: Every movement, every moment, every second of what he witnessed that night under the Fisk Towers played on repeat in his mind.
Relationships: Jefferson Davis & Miles Morales
Comments: 10
Kudos: 153





	Reach Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SirGnometheGiant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirGnometheGiant/gifts).



> To my normal readers: I promise this is not the start of a deep dive into a new fandom. Just something I had to get out.

Jefferson couldn’t think. Jefferson couldn’t _breathe_.

Bands of iron wrapped around his chest, his legs, his feet, keeping him from moving. The weight of his emotions as they tore through him. One hand pressed against the wall. The only thing holding him up as he tried to make his lungs work. The rough grit of the brick under his hands felt sharp — almost glass-like — to his oversensitive touch.

Every movement, every moment, every second of what he witnessed that night under the Fisk Towers played on repeat in his mind. Every detail amped up to high definition, the colors as bright and vivid as the ones that Miles painted every day, hidden poorly on the signs and in the alleys of their home.

Every snap of tendon and crack of bone. The sound of Fisk’s meaty fist meeting flesh. The way the new Spiderman had gone limp — like a marionette with cut strings — those pearlescent eyes closing in defeat, even if only for a moment.

His son.

 _That had been his son_.

Fourteen years old and not even tall enough to reach Jefferson’s shoulders. In middle school for god’s sake.

And he’d nearly lost him.

Nearly lost him and _had not even known_.

His vision swam, the alley way around him merging with the remembered sight of _Miles_ hanging from a silk thread over that crater the collider left after it had been destroyed. After it had _exploded_.

Dozens — hundreds — of puzzle pieces slotted into place, painting a picture that just added to the pressure on Jefferson’s chest. All the times he’d seen Spiderman injured, swinging away from the scene limping. _Bleeding._

Miles’ sudden penchant for _colds_ , claiming he couldn’t come home for the night or the weekend because he was sick. Timed so soon after Spiderman’s injuries.

Spiderman was his son.

His little boy.

Putting his life on the line. He was going to get himself killed while he was out chasing criminals and supervillains every night when he should be studying for that physics exam! That thought skittered across his brain, spiraling like all the others.

 _School_. How the hell was Miles even managing that? He knew — he saw — how often his son was on the street, swinging from building to building in the middle of the night. Soaring between the skyscrapers like they were his own personal jungle gym.

And wasn’t that another conversation to have? The death defying stunts and the acrobatics! Where did he pick that up? The kid was going to break his neck! Jefferson couldn’t _stand_ the thought of watching his son swan dive off of Brooklyn Point — not again — maybe missing a swing and slamming into the pavement at maximum velocity.

God, what would he tell Rio?

Jefferson could hear his heartbeat in his ears. The blood rushing through his veins.

On some level, he recognized his panic attack. He’d only had a couple in his life. After the death of his and Aaron’s parents. In that little room in the hospital after Rio and Miles were both asleep, right after his son was born. He had been so terrified that he was going screw everything all up. Then, again after finding his brother in that alley…

Oh, that had been Miles there, too...

Miles.

What was he going to do? What _could_ he do about Miles? Where was Miles? He had just been there. Just right…

A hand touched his arm.

“Officer Davis?” The voice wavered, his real voice cracking through that false baritone he tried to keep up.

 _Miles_.

Relief coursed through his veins. Right next to him. He was right there. All he had to do was —

Spiderman squeaked as he was swept up into Officer Jefferson Davis’ arms.


End file.
